


Wildcard

by IceStrike



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Revenge, Torture, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-20 14:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceStrike/pseuds/IceStrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man with a grudge against Eames decides that using Arthur is the best form of punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Inception by about two years.

Eames has never liked the cold.

He prefers places with warm climates and even warmer locals. He enjoys holding a cold beer in his hands as he sits like a lazy cat, baking under the sun’s warm rays. 

So after his last job –a particularly nasty one – he decides that the best place for him to relax is somewhere with a beach. 

He settles for a remote beach in Spain where he pays a fair amount of money to be given some peace and quiet. He leans back in his fold out chair, half under the shade of his umbrella and half out, dozing with his still cool bottle of beer resting against one of his exposed chest tattoos. 

“You do realize Mr. Eames, that tattoos only make it easier to spot you.” 

The voice that pulls him from his sleep is quiet but recognizable so he doesn’t bother reaching for the gun strapped under the chair. 

“Arthur…” Eames drawls out, scratching his chest and downing the rest of his drink. He turns his head to eye the point man from behind his sun glasses.

Arthur is wearing board shorts and a polo shirt and Eames can’t help but think it is almost as good as seeing him naked. He is wearing sunglasses too and his hair, while still slicked back, looks a little less stern than normal. Eames can tell that Arthur isn’t exactly fond of the look but he knows the importance of blending in.

He hasn’t seen the younger man in months but they keep in contact in their own various ways and no doubt one of those channels is how Arthur found his way to this particular beach. “Want a drink?” 

Eames figures he should be polite because if Arthur is here then the news cannot be good. 

“Where is your safe house?” Arthur asks, dismissing Eames’ offer without a hitch. The forger sits up with a quiet growl and points over to the far end of the beach where a small but cozy cottage rests.

When Eames pays for peace and solitude, he doesn’t skimp out and his is the only house for miles. 

“What is this about, Arthur?” 

Arthur’s gaze is still on the house on the shore that Eames has picked out and he can almost hear the point man’s mental scrutiny of its lack of defense and high ground.

“Your last job, the one with Mitchel…” 

Eames isn’t surprised that Arthur knows about the job because he had called him to get some background on Mitchel, a young up and coming extractor, who needed more help than Eames liked but made up for it with raw talent and a particularly wealthy client.

Still, Arthur being here and mentioning the job only brings a frown to Eames’ face. 

“Just spit it out, darling.” 

“Mitchel is dead. So is the piss poor point man he was working with.” Arthur’s tone is as harsh as it ever gets when talking about the dead and it’s clear that that the other point man –Davis—has made some sort of error. 

Eames can’t help but be a little offended that the idea of two novices getting killed after a job means he’s next in Arthur’s eyes. He knows how to disappear after a job, especially the bad ones. 

“Shame about Mitchel though I can’t say the same for Davis.” Eames’ tone is light as he sits up and makes a half assed effort to begin taking down his umbrella. “But you need not worry, pet, I can handle myself.” 

Arthur’s face looks blank and his tone is calm as he speaks up again, “They showed up at my flat looking for you.” 

Eames doesn’t have very many people that he trusts or is willing to go out on a limb for but Arthur is one of them and the two have worked on more jobs together over the past seven years than some actual teams did. 

Suddenly the dynamic changes and Eames can wave off threats on his own life all he likes but this is Arthur and he’s not willing to brush off the fact that Dynamo industries managed to find the one person that—

“I already called Yusuf and Ariadne, just in case.” Arthur states in the same even tone, “Cobb too, though I doubt they’ll go all the way to America just for you.”

Eames rips his gun out from under his chair and tucks in securely into his shorts, he ignores the umbrella, chair and last of his tasty beers and begins to march off to where Arthur has undoubtedly left the car. Arthur follows him and Eames is simply waiting for storm to hit, for Arthur to rub the fact that he worked with amateurs – even though the cash was fantastic – and was now paying for it. 

Arthur doesn’t do anything that remotely sounds like a lecture as he slips into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. Eames notices the suitcase in the back and grins at the fact he knows Arthur won’t be wearing those shorts for much longer and that the point man probably has one of his immaculate suits at the ready. 

The suitcase probably also has some guns at the ready as well. 

“So, which of your flats did they hit? I hope not that lovely place you had in Brussels, I quite enjoyed myself there.”

The corners of Arthur’s mouth move up for a fraction of a second as he responds, “No, the small one in Italy, which I’m sure you recall with equal fondness.” 

Eames gives Arthur a quiet chuckle as he turns the car onto the small dirt path that Eames has used to go to and from the beach. It connects with a main road further down which leads to the nearby village.

Eames glances at Arthur and knows that the moment they are secure in the house, the pleasantries will be over. 

They will begin the rough process of dissecting the enemies’ movements and figuring out the best course of action to keep them both alive. 

So far they’re off to a good start until a concussive force from under the car flips the vehicle with such violence that both men are unconscious in an instant.  
\------------------  
Eames awakens slowly, blinking into a wince as he feels his body suddenly become sore all over. He is lying on a cool cement floor and he fumbles for a moment for his totem, checking it to make sure that he is in reality. 

It all checks out just as his memory hits him with a jolt. He pushes himself roughly to his feet and groans. His ribs are a bit tender and he has a cut by his temple but he’s no worse for wear. He takes stock of his situation quickly; he is in a warehouse or a storage center, so he is at least forty miles from his cottage. He has been left in somewhat good condition and free of any restraints but the door to the room is locked from the outside. The lack of food or water would suggest that whoever has him holds no plans on either keeping him alive or in this room for long.

The last and worst realization is that Arthur is not in the room with him. 

Eames picks at one of his nails with his teeth as he paces the room, looking for any sort of weak points. He knows the crash wouldn’t have done much more damage to Arthur than himself and with any luck, whoever caused it –because you would have to be a fool to think cars flipped on their own—simply grabbed him and left Arthur alone. 

He paces for twenty more minutes before the door finally opens. Three men walk in, two larger than he is with guns strapped to their fronts and the third is about his size, dressed to the nines in a suit that would make Arthur jealous. 

Eames feels his breath hitch when he spies the third man and now he knows why goons attacked Arthur’s flat and he knows that this has nothing to do with his last job.

“Hello Eames!” The man’s accent comes out as something that is not quite Irish but then again not quite anything else. “It’s been too long.”

“Flynn.” Eames greets curtly. 

Flynn’s face falls into an ugly frown, “Really now, Eames, that’s the best greeting you can give me?”

Eames matches his look with a scowl of his own, “What do you want Flynn?”

“You know I had almost given up searching for you,” Flynn continues as if Eames hadn’t just asked him a question, “You’re a hard man to find when you don’t want to be but even the best stumble sometimes.” 

Eames knows he can only wait out Flynn’s rants so he steels himself as the mobster begins to circle him, “When Dynamo Industries called us up for a little help with getting rid of some corporate spies I expected to find the usual; hot shot kids too smart for their own good. But you could imagine the look of surprise on my face when your mug showed up, right?”

Flynn stops behind him but Eames forces himself to remain facing forward. The Irishman’s arm finds itself draped over his shoulder, “I remember when you got that one…”  
Flynn’s hand traces down the front of Eames’ chest to his tattoo and the forger shrugs himself out of his grip.

“This is about the money, right? I have it…I can give it back—“

“Why haven’t you asked about your friend?” Flynn cuts him off with a smirk. 

Eames, to his credit, keeps his face carefully neutral. He had been hesitant to ask about Arthur, not wanting Flynn to read more into their relationship than he already had.

“…are you hoping to keep me from him? Please, Eames, I already know about him. In fact, it’s thanks to him that all of this is possible.”

“He’s got nothing to do with our issues.”

Flynn nods sagely, digging his hands deep into his pockets, “He doesn’t, you’re right. But as I’m sure you’ll remember I’ve always had a hard time keeping my hands off of handsome men.”

Without another thought, Eames’ fist is already heading towards Flynn’s face. His attack never quite reaches Flynn, who grips his wrist and reverses the punch, twisting Eames’ arm behind his back and sending the forger to his knees. 

“What’s the matter Eames? Did I just strike a nerve?” Flynn hisses into his ear, “Do you not enjoy the idea that I might fuck your point man?”

Flynn kicks Eames hard in the back and straightens himself back up, “This isn’t about money anymore, Eames. I aim to settle my account with Dynamo, of course, but not before I make sure you regret ever crossing me.”


	2. To Win

When Arthur awakens, he finds himself on a mattress in a store room. He is alone for the moment and a blanket has been provided for him. He has a few cuts and he notices that his shoes are gone which is probably a tactic to keep him from getting very far if he found a way out of the room. Arthur tries for the door halfheartedly and finds it surprisingly unlocked. He slides it open and cautiously peeks out. 

It is a storage warehouse with rows of rooms like the one he has been placed in. Arthur can only hope that Eames has been stashed in one like his own as he steps slowly out into the hall. He checks the corners for cameras and finds two and no cover from either of them. He knows he just has to work fast as he silently makes his way down the rows.

He quickly glances into the windows placed high on the doors and finds most of them annoyingly empty. He continues forward and when he finds a pipe, he scoops it up, knowing it is better than nothing as he moves to the next row. 

When he finally comes across Eames’ cell, the Brit is lying in a corner and is more still than Arthur has ever seen him. 

Arthur’s first instinct is to call out to him but he knows he is pushing his luck as it is. He kneels down and tries the handle, finding it locked. 

He curses silently and decides that speed is still the deciding factor in his plan and puts the pipe against the lock, using his weight to start to pry it off. 

Eames sits up quickly when he hears the door being opened and readies himself for another round with Flynn. 

When the door finally opens, Eames is throwing a punch and then violently throwing himself back to avoid a pipe to the face.

“Damn it, Arthur!” Eames mutters as he hits the ground, shooting Arthur a look of disdain and relief. 

“I take it you expected someone else, Mr. Eames?” 

“Someone not nearly as handsome, darling.” And as Eames gets to his feet, he pulls Arthur into a tight embrace that Arthur is quick, but not overly so, to disengage himself from.

“We have to go. Come on.” 

Arthur wraps his fingers around Eames’ wrist, giving him a tug to get him going as they both step back out into the corridor. Eames scans the area just as Arthur had done when he first set foot outside his door and as they continue unheeded, a creeping sensation finds its way into Eames’ neck.

“…this isn’t right…” He murmurs as Arthur moves in front of him, undoubtedly going to check out the main entrance.

Eames has known Flynn for much longer than he would like to admit and he knows that the man isn’t sloppy by any stretch of the imagination so when Arthur deems the outside clear and moves to step out into the sunlight, Eames finds himself screaming.

“STOP!”

Arthur turns to step back towards Eames when the bullet rips through him, twisting his body unnaturally and dropping him like a stone to the ground.

“ARTHUR!” 

Eames doesn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice as he rushes to the point man’s side. Dragging him back into the relative safety of the warehouse, Eames has his back against the wall with Arthur between his legs as more gun fire rips into the building. Eames can tell they are not trying to hit them anymore but are making sure they do not attempt to step outside again but that doesn’t stop him from hunching over Arthur, shielding him from any strays. 

“Arthur?” Eames manages to collect himself enough to check on Arthur’s wound. He lays the other man down and kneels over him, noting the entry point of the wound was the shoulder. There is blood everywhere and still coming but Arthur is still breathing. 

“…E-ames.” Arthur’s eyes open and shut as if he no longer has the will to control them but Eames can feel him attempting to stand. 

“Not just yet.” Eames hisses gently as he rips fabric from Arthur’s polo and begins to tie off the wound, hoping to slow the flow of blood.

“…have to keep moving.”

Eames would rather not force Arthur back to his feet but he knows that the point man is correct and that they still have a chance of escaping. He gets back to his feet, taking most of Arthur’s weight onto himself and he starts back down the hall. Eames knows that the ways out are being watched but he can still hide them, which is now his new goal.

Eames can feel Arthur still trying to walk as he goes as fast as possible, glancing around for a place to hide. He sees another open doorway and takes his chances with it. Luckily for him it was a storage room that was actually being used as one instead of a cell.

There are boxes littering the room and Eames sets Arthur down in a corner before he walks away to start stacking the boxes to hide them from view. 

“I should have…been more careful with the roof…the sniper…”

Eames hushes Arthur quickly, “It’s not your fault.” 

“Who are they, Eames?”

Eames sighs quietly as he gives their cover one last go over. “They’re a bit like the mafia with their hands in everything, including forging. I worked under a man named Flynn before leaving to go solo.” Eames glances down at Arthur, who manages to give him an annoyed look.

“That doesn’t exactly explain why he’s doing this….”

Eames has the good graces to look sheepish, “Well, darling, I did take quite a bit of his money when I left.”

Arthur coughs out a harsh laugh, “Is that all?”

“Of course, it’s not.”

Arthur jerks upright, hissing in pain when he does so and Eames is already on his feet, glaring holes into Flynn. He sees that the other man has none of his bodyguards with him and his hands are behind his back, the picture of calm.

“A shame really. That bullet would have been better for you, Eames, not your pretty friend.”

Arthur pulls a face at being called pretty by someone he could beat the living tar out of in a fair fight. He manages to sit up, feeling a bit light headed but he can handle that for now. 

“Now, I’ll admit I was hoping to chat with your Arthur first but someone forgot to lock his door up. No matter, I’m dealing with that detail as we speak.” 

Somewhere in the distance, Arthur and Eames can hear a scream that Flynn simply smiles at. 

“Now, let’s see-oh that’s right! I think it’s time to go back to your rooms.”

Eames steps towards Flynn, “Try it.”

Flynn smiles in a way that reminds Eames that this man is no fool but with Arthur bleeding on the ground next to him, he refuses to simply stand aside. He puts up his hands and gets into a stance to remind Flynn that Eames is no pushover himself.   
When Flynn takes a step forward, Eames moves to meet him and the first two blows that each throw connect with their own blocks. They both stumble back a bit with Flynn recovering faster than Eames, who feels his arm becoming uncomfortably numb.

“…what the hell?”

Flynn holds up his fist and Eames can see something that looks like black brass knuckles on his hand, they crackle with electricity and Eames narrows his eyes.

“Fight to win, Eames.”


End file.
